It's hard to know (that you still care)
by Heleentje
Summary: You don't look. No, no, there's nothing to look at. That's different, you say. [Z-one-centric, bad future]


**It's hard to know (that you still care)**

You don't look.

No, no, there's nothing to look _at._ That's different, you say. That means the flash of _yellowgreenred_ is just your imagination. Not real. Real are the numbers on the page. Real are the ways you can save the world. Real isn't the hand on your shoulder, aren't the familiar voices pointing out your mistakes.

(They're right and you make the changes. Then you think it's just your subconscious helping you. A familiar form. A familiar voice. Still not real.)

No, they're all gone. You know it because you can't stand the alternative: seeing them forever without any way to save them. Seeing all of them trapped and forced to witness your mistakes, witness how you fail them over and over again. They're not really there. Before, when the city was still there, still vivid and vibrant, when the living still outnumbered the dead, you were sure you could see them. Now you tell yourself you can't. You tell yourself that they're just afterimages, products of an imagination too strong, remnants of a life long lost.

And yet, it's wrong. In your imagination, they would blame you. They would hate you and shun you and let you die. Instead they talk to you, tell you that it isn't your fault, that you tried so hard, and that you should _run, Yusei, now!_ They save you, over and over again. They warn you when the Machine Emperors come and find you safe places to sleep. You now realize, with all the logic you so prided yourself on, that your imagination can't do that, because in your own mind, you're not worth saving.

There are others, too. There are children you know, and children you don't. There's a girl with blue hair and brown eyes. She's twelve, maybe thirteen at most, and keeps talking about her brother. You ask why she's in Neo Domino, why she's talking to you, why she even bothers. Then you turn away before she can reply, because you belatedly realize that she shouldn't be there and shouldn't be real.

Too often you see a glimpse of movement or a flash of color, and you think you've found survivors, only to find the people you couldn't save. You think about giving up. It would be so easy: a step in the wrong direction, a hiding place that isn't quite safe, and it would be over. Only it wouldn't be, because you can't deny it anymore. They're here, and if you died, you'd be here too, and you'd never be able to leave. You would forever see the world you failed to save. They encourage you to keep trying, tell you they still believe in you, but how can they? How can they trust you, when you let them die? How can they trust you, when you weren't even there when they died?

You almost fail to save another person, dismiss the speck in the distance as another one of the dead, another one you couldn't reach in time. But then the girl with the blue hair is there, and she's frantic, and you realize that maybe, yes, you can save this one. Antinomy, he calls himself, after he's gotten over the shock of still being alive. He recognizes you, but you use the pseudonym you chose before, because it's easier being Z-one.

You never see the girl with the blue hair again. You're not sad to see her go.

The others remain, though, and you wish they would all go away and take their words with them. It would be so easy to listen, so easy to let yourself believe their reassurances and get lost in the time before the Machine Emperors—

Before Momentum—

Before.

Antinomy makes it easier, somehow, because now you can pretend that the voices you hear belong to a living person. You can pretend you were talking to him when you answer without meaning to, and Antinomy is too nice and too caught up in hero-worship to ask about it, even though he surely notices. There are others, after him. Some stay. Some leave after a few days. Some die and join the crowd that walks with you.

For years, that crowd keeps growing as the world around you dies, until suddenly, it doesn't. You don't know when you realize that the streets are running empty, that you're alone again. Maybe it started when the girl with the blue hair disappeared. Maybe it started before, and you never paid attention. You only notice now, when you've finally come to rely on them. Failing them once wasn't enough. Now they're disappearing, moving on without you, and you'll be alone again soon. Even your oldest friends, the ones who've been with you since before you can remember, are disappearing one by one. They tell you they love you, and that you'll be fine and that Antinomy and Paradox will be there for you. They tell you that you will save the world. They tell you they're sure you will, and then, after all the pretty words and reassurances, they're gone.

The world is empty now. You'll die soon and even if you linger, no one will be waiting for you.

You don't look.

There's nothing left to look at.


End file.
